


here it grows

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Clothed Sex, Emotions, F/M, Grinding, Post-Season/Series 04, Quiet worry, Sexual Tension, Sloppy Makeouts, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 16:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: They've run out of patience.Hesitation is a foreign thing the moment she strides down the walkway, having her need as a sore ache that burns down the length of her throat and under the layer of her skin.It sizzles and pops until she's forced to acknowledge how they're only giving her stinging reminders of what she thinks she has control in.Wrong. Absolutely wrong.She turns a sharp corner that makes her hold onto the wall, and screeches into a halt when she sees him doing the same thing.





	here it grows

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if there are mistakes, since it's a little over 4am here but i hope you enjoy it!

“Command me to leave, and I will leave.”

There would be no suspicions to this, no whispers of indignation would pass from anyone's hand as their eyes follow their subject with keen interest. There wouldn’t be anymore teetering footsteps against the floor when she passes by; backs rigid, their eyes would drop to their feet and silence hangs heavily onto their lips.

She knows the talks that wiggles and slides on the walls of the palace, where people would say what they've heard of their beloved kingdom and pass it down. If the weaving and tanglement of politics would bore them senseless, the royal family is everyone's favourite subject to talk about; King Alfor’s work with Zarkon and the others, her mother's exquisite performance with her musicians, a partner for Allura to rule with-

She remembers her distaste when she hears suggestions of a groom, the overbearing thought of having someone to determine what she is makes her lose her appetite.

Nonetheless, the hallways would be alive with how their people would laugh and walk together in linked arms, enjoying what the universe has given in close companionship. She remembers playing with other children, with other older Alteans when she sneaks into the kitchen; they pretend not to see how she would stand on a stool and reach for a pastry, and continue to chatter and send her goodbyes when she leaves.

But, their eyes; their eyes are everywhere as much as their words are.

They might be comrades, people who support her father and the kingdom she lives in - or in some cases, she might considered them as _friends_. But, they see what she does, and they have their own opinion in their own princess.

How lowly she thinks of them, she would scold herself. Is this how a princess would trust her people? Her friends?

She trusts them, and yet she's careful with what she says in public.

From there, she trains herself to keep quiet of the things that might affect her and her family directly or otherwise, to avoid word that will hit against her own crown.

She masters the art of secrecy.

The castle, as it seems, shrouds itself into a state of despair ten thousand years ago after she's forced to sleep.

And all eyes and ears she used to avoid vanishes within it.

The door has long closed from where she stands in front of it, fingertips lightly touching the cold surface as she presses the back of her wrist against her hip; she thinks ahead of the possibilities to her surprising visit, and is already one step forward in case she isn’t welcomed.

But, he hasn't pull down his hood, and the shadows beneath prevents her to see what he feels.

It's hardly fair, she thinks, not when all she can do is wait.

The lights to his room hasn't had the chance to be switched on properly before she arrives, and the low colours leave her the same distinctive feeling whenever she walks down the abandoned pathway to the library.

“Keith,” she begins when he doesn’t, and the fingers against the door twitches slightly as she holds his stare. “I need your permission to continue with this.”

She must have made a mistake, because the grip he has onto the cloth of his hood looks painful if around flesh, clutched around bone. When she sees his face, his exhaustion reflects what they've been avoiding for the whole time. “You're already in my room.”

The statement causes her to pause. But, she spreads her hand against the surface of the door as she leans against it with a small sigh, her paladin armour a bulking obstacle to her momentary rest. “I’m sorry about that, but I still need to talk to you.”

“Are you going to lecture me again?”

There’s none of the mockery some would have seized the chance to use on her, and she lets out a breath of chuckles. “No, I'm not. I'm here because I'm concerned on how you're doing after you were stopped from causing your own death.”

Keith tenses at this, automatically allowing himself to straighten his spine. “I was doing what should be done.”

“You don't need to explain it to me, I know how all of us have that sacrificial streak the moment we're out there.” She says this, and he doesn’t ease his posture from where he stands in the middle of the room. “It’s almost as if it's mandatory to have it, in a way.”

“I did it because I thought it would be a better alternative than seeing several galaxies explode at one go,” he still explains, voice tight. “I had no other choice.”

“I know, Keith.” She assures him softly, because she gets it; if fate uses the tip of its finger to lead you to your doom by the chin, then you have nowhere else to go but follow. Lest, you'll get stabbed by a nail and fall down anyway. “I have no means in scolding you for it.”

“Then, why are you here?” Even if he doesn't want to show it, he's defensive. She doesn't blame him, they're all tired after vargas of being in the same room with other members of the coalition; discussing their next course of action, trying not to raise a war of their own when a Galra Prince decided to drop himself into their hands.

And now, she's here, making a menace of herself in his presence when she should be resting in her own room, leaving him be.

“I wanted to make sure you're okay,” she works out a smile for him. It doesn't reach to where she wants it to be, but the tension on his shoulders relaxes a bit, just enough for her smile to grow wider. “Since you were doing us a favour.”

He doesn't seem to know how to respond to it, to her compliment.

Odd, isn't it? How _do_ you respond to someone congratulating you from being used as a missle?

“Thank you, Keith.” She says, this _need_ to just talk to him latching onto her, and it flares around and inside her with the same warmth as the billions of dying stars she almost make contact with.

It imprints on the walls of her body, ignites within her soul.

“But, I'm more grateful Lotor took the shot when he had the chance and allowing you to breathe another quintant more.”

The door opens behind her, and she takes a step back to leave him with his peace.

She's said enough.

It doesn't take a couple of ticks, or she's just about to face the hallway before Keith's already taking wide strides towards her, almost subconsciously slamming a palm against the frame to stop the door from shutting close between them.

Now that they're bathed in the hallway lights, she's able to see the violet in his eyes, the wrinkles almost permanently crafted between his eyebrows, the pinch of his mouth.

Allura lets her eyes rake through what emotions he allows her to see.

“You make it sound as if I saved your life,” his voice is as weary as his face suggests, but there’s denial in it; denial and frustration. “You already made a valid point yourself, princess. Lotor shot down the shield. I didn't. Why applaud for a non-existing success?”

Her title isn’t supposed to leave an impact on her, where her spine tingles from the low tone of his voice, the hum in her chest crooning in interest when she lowers her gaze to his lips.

 _Whore_ , her mind shrieks, and she gives it an obstinate swipe.

“We need you, remember?” She reminds him with a snap of her look. _I want to touch him_ , she realises, and quenches the need with her nails digging into the meat of her palm; instead, she drinks him in through the piercing _want_ of her gaze. “You being alive is as successful as it can be.”

He stares at her, and the look on his face suggests he’s trying to believe what she says, trying not to categorize it as a lie.

With that, he's starting to frown again. And she reaches out to touch his hand, concerned for a moment more. “Keith?”

At these times, she shouldn’t have forgotten - even if it's for a moment - with how they're gambling with their own lives to save a universe for all species to spend the end of their days through harmonious existence.

At these times, unconsidered situations could be regarded as hostile.

She feels her breath stuck in her throat when he catches her fingers in his, his grip as firm as the way he tugs her a bit nearer to him out of sheer instinct. If this situation hasn't thrown her off enough, she would've laugh at how he’s halfway there in delivering the first hit.

Something in his eyes flashes for a second, before she sees the way he physically tries to keep it under control.

Even through their armour, she feels how his body heat envelops her completely, folding around her until it tucks into every little crack she's picked out from her quests, filling in what she's lost.

It crawls up her chest, wraps itself around her neck.

When she tentatively rests her other hand on his stomach, her eyes remains on his while he caves from her touch, a gust of his own breath grazing against her cheek while she tries to reign in the thunder of her heart.

And he allows her to slide her palm up his torso, where he almost quivers under her touch, as much she tries not to let him know how she's effected as he is - breathing out a shuddering sigh against his jaw, her own eyes half-lidded.

Voices slash through the hallway like lightning, making them flinch away from each other with a gasp.

Her heart throbs in her throat as she watches his wide eyes, his heaving chest; and from there, they see each other through their quiet horror.

His hand drops to his side, and the door slides shut with a whisper, the click of it locking close rings within the shell of her ears.

 

* * *

 

When Allura sees him again, he has his mask up and his arms crossed.

Keith stands somewhere in between the Paladins and the Blade. With Shiro on his right as he talks in low tones with Coran - and Kolivan, standing as rigid as he is with his arms folded at his back.

Seeing Keith dwarfed by his own peers doesn't stop the twitch from her mouth, and she has to look away as she walks towards the centre of the bridge.

The meeting, as it always appears, would be about Lotor.

And the person in saying is flanked by the member of the Blades, his hands and ankles cuffed from where he stands while he steadily meets her look, as if he isn’t surrounded by the same people he tries to kill or almost be killed from.

His calm adds fire to their already frazzled nerves by simply being there.

When she glances to Keith, he’s already facing her with that blank mask.

And when she talks, she doesn't take her eyes off him until it's time to face the exiled prince in front of her.

 

* * *

 

They've run out of patience.

Hesitation is a foreign thing the moment she strides down the walkway, having her _need_ as a sore ache that burns down the length of her throat and under the layer of her skin.

It sizzles and pops until she's forced to acknowledge how they're only giving her stinging reminders of what she thinks she has control in.

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

She turns a sharp corner that makes her hold onto the wall, and screeches into a halt when she sees him doing the same thing.

The high priestess of her kingdom would have tutted at how she runs to him, to his hold, and how she touches him with her heart banging in her ears and her fingers dragging down his torso.

“The blast,” she croaks through her shock, clutching his belt while he runs a hand down the curve of her back; touching her, feeling her under his palm like she is with his waist. “The fire. You were caught in it, Kolivan couldn't save you. _We_ couldn't save you. Keith -”

“I got out,” he says breathlessly, and he has blood drying on his temple that makes the colour in his eyes stand out. “I managed to press gas and the busted wing salvaged some energy, and then I was out of that tight spot,” he laughs hoarsely at this, and the sound grates against her skin. “I can't believe I'm alive.”

“You're alive,” she echoes in wonder, her hand reaching up to cup the side of his face, careful of his wound. “I'm glad you're here.”

He closes his eyes at this, a hum dripping down his chest when she lets her fingertips run through his sweat soaked hair.

He's here, he's safe, and Allura hasn't felt this light for as long as she can remember.

She lets her head tilt up until her nose brushes against his chin, her teeth gritted by default when she meets his eyes properly.

Something in those purples responds just as strikingly.

He swoops down and takes her mouth in his, pressing into the kiss with similar need that runs in her veins as she sucks in a sharp breath. It vibrates down to her bones, urging her to retaliate with the same vigour while clutching onto his shoulders.

He's here, he's alive.

“You need,” she manages through the kiss, remembering his condition through her tangled brain when he manoeuvres himself to the wall, a small grunt escaping shortly when his back hits the surface. “Medical attention. A cryopod, at least.”

“I'm fine.” He says against her lips, a growl underlying his tone.

She moves a hand to his side, right above where his ribs would end, and presses there to emphasize her point.

He chokes out a gasp from the pain, almost reeling back before he stops himself from going any further than only letting his nose bump into hers, his hands still on her waist.

He heaves under the spread of her fingers, and she turns her head to brush another kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “What happened here?”

A swipe of his tongue against his dry lips, and then, he takes a careful breath. “Bruised. I didn't exactly get a soft landing when I crashed into that ship.”

Humming thoughtfully, she lets herself be pulled into his embrace, his arms winding around her waist with his head dropping back on the wall with a dull thud. “We still need to get you patched up.”

“I'm fine, Allura.”

“I'm still taking you to the infirmary.”

He looks at her through his lashes; contemplating, his bangs sticking on his forehead. “You'll just carry me there even if I said no, huh?”

She gives an innocent peck on his cheek. “Come on.”

She's careful in making sure she doesn't bump into where it hurts, and he groans slightly when she gently pulls him off the wall, slinging an arm around his waist while he drapes his across her shoulders. With that, they slowly make their way to the infirmary.

Shiro finds them with Keith's body suit to his waist as he sits on one of the cots, revealing all purple bruises Allura has tended while she dabs the last of the dried blood from his forehead.

“You have to stop using yourself as a bomb,” Shiro informs him wearily, his arms crossed against his chest from where he stands near the doorframe. “I know it brings some spice into things, but -”

He stops there when Keith lets out a chuckle, not taking his eyes off Allura when she raises both eyebrows in question. “Maybe I _want_ to spice things up, Shiro. What do you think of that?”

Shiro snorts. “Maybe not to the point of trying to kill yourself.”

“You do have a thing for bombs, don’t you?” Allura throws the gauze into the bin by her feet, and reaches for a small bottle by the trolley and twists it open. “Like the time when you bombed the place that held Shiro back on earth.”

“I didn’t bomb it,” Keith corrects her when she used a new gauze with the medicine to wipe onto the cut. “I used it as a distraction. There's a difference.”

“I can’t believe you made _bombs,_ though.” Shiro says, impressed.

Keith only shrugs.

Shiro shakes his head fondly, straightening himself up. “I'll get cleaned up and meet you two at the bridge with the others. Kolivan’s already waiting.”

“Of course he is.” Keith mutters, quietly resting a hand onto her hip as Allura covers his wound.

She pretends not to notice until Shiro leaves, the door closing behind him as she glances down to where Keith stares at her expectantly. “What?”

The only answer she gets is when he reaches up to catch her lips into a kiss, and she allows herself to relax when he pulls her in between his spread legs, contrary to when she has been standing to the side when in front of their friend.

Modesty is, to her surprise, still a living concept between them.

“You're still not fully healed,” she murmurs when she lets herself be pull flushed to his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I'm okay,” he assures her, linking his hands onto the slope of her back when she leans back to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about me. Please.”

“It's hard not to,” she admits, brushing hair away from his eyes. “With everything we're doing.”

“Mandatory sacrificial streak, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

He looks at her a little longer, the same soft look eases into his expression far too easily than he would allow sometimes, and leans up again to kiss her jaw then - a flutter of a touch that reminds her of the time when flowers grazes her cheeks during the bright and windy summers. She remembers laying down in the middle of field with wild juniberries as her company, staring at the morning skies with her arms stretched out to her sides.

The same warmth explodes inside her sternum when he moves his lips to the apple of her cheek, and she breathes on softly while her fingers comb through his hair.

Content; after a year of painful revelations and so much unexpected fortunes she doesn't know she deserves, she's content with how she stands in his embrace, in his hold - a given moment she cherishes for the time being in the amidst of pure havoc.

He tilts his head more and delivers a soft kiss onto her lips, tasting her with careful intent as she slides her hand to the side of his face, fingertips buried in his hair.

He pulls back enough to plant one, two, and more small kisses before she gets annoyed with his little plays, holding onto his face firmly while she gives a long, and pointed kiss of her own that makes him rumble with amusement.

She licks onto his upper lip, her arms snaking around his neck on their own record while his hands lowers themselves down the curve of her ass - sliding them lower until Allura has to prevent the shiver from his purposeful touches, and the way they grip around her thighs almost allows her to climb onto his lap.

He bites into the flush of her bottom lip, and a ragged breath whistles past her teeth when he urged her more towards him, encouraging her to take what has been offered.

“Keith,” she starts, a warning on the tip of her tongue. “There are people waiting for us.”

“There are always people waiting for us,” he answers back in a rasping voice. “Let them wait more.”

And she, like all manic beings who are drunk on the slightest smell of disobedience, surges through.

He is firm between her legs as she kisses him with his element in her body, licking up the walls of her self-restraint with unbashful glee when he answers her vigour with his own. He holds onto her thighs as he angles his head to deepen their kiss, and she moans in surprise when his tongue runs the roof of her mouth.

He is firm under her palms when she run her hands across the stretch of his shoulders, sailing seemingly with the scars he's donned across the months he has been fighting with their team. His skin isn't smooth like metal of the Olkarian cube, but he is warm with life.

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair when he changes their positions, her legs still wrapped around his waist when he lowers her back onto the cot they sit on.

The gasp is strikeful against her lungs when they break away, and she gulps handful of air when he descends onto her neck to continue his kisses; short and sweet against her skin, fleeting as the birds looking for nectar.

Distracted, she runs her nails down the length of his front, admiring his late night work out under her touch.

“Those gladiators were worth it then,” she muses, letting a finger trail down his abdomen. “I'm still irritated at you for destroying them as if they were indispensable.”

He hums. “Aren't they?”

“Not if Hunk and Pidge had to fix them numerous times.”

She's glad she took off her armour before tending to his wounds, because she needs him in her space now more than ever.

And from how he sucks in a sharp breath when she arches her back, pushing herself into him until she’s able to feel him more, she knows he wants this just as badly.

She lets one leg drop, using it as a base to grind her hips to his until she feels his clothed cock against her.

He bites her ear. “Allura.”

Tightening the other leg around his waist, she rolls her hips again.

The groan he makes almost intermingles with a growl, and he grabs onto her leg to wrap it around his waist again before he surges against her; clothed and absolutely unmerciful.

She throws her head back with a sharp release of her breath, the friction of how the material of his suit rubs exquisitely against her own makes her grip his hair further, encouraging her to meet his urges just as gladly.

She loves this, she loves when he kisses her again that every feeling skyrockets in her body until she's left with stars twinkling in front of her eyes. There’s no other way to explain how her senses have heighten just for him and _only_ him.

And she tugs onto the suit still hanging around his waist, palming down the smooth skin of his ass just as he uses her arched spine as an advantage to yank the zipper down her back.

The cool air hits her exposed chest when he pulls the black suit off her shoulders, his mouth following his nimble fingers as he leaves small kisses under his wake. He presses his lips in the middle of her sternum, and she tries to even out her breathing when his hair tickles against her hardened nipples.

When he peers up to look at her, she feels her breath lodging in her throat again.

He's beautiful in every aspect. Only with great pity, he doesn't see it.

She holds his cheek and tilts his face to hers again, breathing the same air he breathes when she looks at him.

“You’re lovely.” She whispers, and she gives him the chance to blink in surprise before she leans forward to kiss him again.

And again.

And again.

“ _Holy fuck_ -”

What world they've made shatters into grains at the sudden intrusion, and they're forced to reach for air with a great deal of effort to snap their eyes towards the door.

Lance is frozen in his place from where he lies wide eyes on them.

Keith, who has come to his senses, quickly pushes himself off her until he's sitting on her legs, pulling onto his suit on again with quick fingers.

She shrugs on her own suit when Lance begins to talk.

“I am _never_ doing messenger boy service for the next of our lifetime.” He says flatly as Keith swings his legs off the cot and lands on the ground with a firm thud.

“You didn't get the memo.”

“What memo? You, soiling the place up by waving your naked ass everywhere?”

“This naked ass was about to get laid before you interrupted.” Keith says blandly, and Allura tries to hide her laughter with a cough into her fist.

Those blue eyes are razor sharp on her, eyebrows sky high. “Princess.”

She nods at him, but makes no effort in hiding her grin. “Lance.”

“And now I'm the reasonable one. Figures.” He scoffs, messing his hair up aggressively as he turns around, completely refusing to look at them in the eye. “Come on, the others are already waiting for you two.”

He leaves without another word, and both of them tries to school their features into something more reasonable with what aura they're diving into, the back of their hands brushing against each other as they follow their friend down the hallway.

It's hard to do that when Lance shoots them a withering glare when they walk in the bridge at the same.

But, they manage, and she gives Keith one last tap against his palm before they split to the other side of the room.


End file.
